Red John Reverie
by BFangz
Summary: Cho and Patrick Jane have a Sunday morning conversation, in a coffee shop, about Red Jane and what they suspect. That night, Patrick has to face his anguish alone. Will he be able to face the morning after?
1. A Chat with Cho

**Author's Note:  
This story occurs right after Red Sky In The Morning Season 2, Episode 23. When your world falls apart, some soul searching may be in order.**

**Red John Reverie  
**(A Chat with Cho)

Cho's heart rate had returned to normal, now, and the aroma of the coffee, the sounds of the cafe bustle around him, was as comforting part of his Sunday morning routine. A brisk workout in his room, and then a relaxing jog around the lake, a high protein breakfast, all followed by a cup of cinnamon coffee. What more could a man ask for on a Sunday morning?

Patrick Jane opened the door, walked in, looked around and smiled on seeing Cho. He waved and Cho reluctantly waved back. "A man could ask for some peace and quiet," he internally grumbled. The grumble was more of a Cho formality. He was not all that upset to be disturbed. He was done eating and Jane could be entertaining. And he was a team member. Cho was very aware that Jane was not an early riser. That he was up and functional probably indicated that he could not rest and was seeking diversion. "The damn guy rubs off on you. Now, I'm profiling him!"

Jane had made his way to Cho's table. Cocking one eyebrow: "May I," he asked, indicating an empty chair, more as a formality than anything else.

Cho nodded amiably and pushed the empty chair from under the table with his foot. As he was sitting, he caught the waitress' eye. "Lapsang souchong," he ordered. They waited for his tea in companionable silence. The tea was quickly delivered. Jane sniffed, smiled and added a hefty dollop of sugar. "You have to love Sacramento." he said. "Where else can you go and ask for lapsang souchong, and not only do they not ask you what is is, but deliver it, properly brewed, in minutes?"

Cho smiled but said nothing. Jane took a careful sip, (it was hot!), leaned back and focused on Cho. "I keep forgetting how toned you keep your body," he observed. "At the office, in a suit, you look well built but reasonably normal. Sitting there, sweat pants and a tank top, you are rather impressive. Tell me, honestly now, do you have to beat the ladies off?"

Cho grimaced his displeasure at being asked a personal question. "Not really," he grunted. Then, opening up a bit more, "I just tell them my job and work schedule." He actually smiled. "That usually does it."

Jane chuckled. "Maybe that's what I need to do, but Kristina knew what I do and my work schedule." He paused, tea cup half way to his mouth and gazed into the distance.

"The ten thousand mile stare," Cho thought. "He's going Asiatic on us. The guy's bothered." Cho could see the stress in Patrick's total demeanor. "Can't say that I blame him. This Red John thing is freaky, and he does seem to be right at the center of it."

"That didn't stop her," Jane finally continued. "What do you think, Cho? Is she Red John, or should I say red Jane?" Cho said nothing. "No, I don't see how she can be," Patrick continued. "Just the physical strength required would exceed her capacity, but do you think she's involved with him? Maybe she's even in love with him or related to him. That could be it, couldn't it?"

Cho shrugged. "Could be. Or..."

"Or maybe she's like you," Jane interrupted. "She could be a lot stronger than she looks. Most of her actions consist more of planning and disabling the victims, not brute strength, anyway. It could be a woman, even if the normal profile for serial killers is not a female pattern. There are always exceptions, aren't there?"

Cho smiled and nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He leaned back. Cho did not think that Red John was, in actuality, Red Jane, but Kristina's disappearance was suspicious. Of course, she could have realized that she could be Red John's next target and bolted in fear. So far, protecting people from RJ had not been all that successful.

"Yes," Jane continued, "There can be exceptions, but she could have panicked, too. If she's not associated with him, she could have been his next target. She's smart enough to figure that one out, and she's smart enough to realized that our chances of protecting her are not all the great. She may have done the only thing available to her to say alive, and that's run! We may be condemning an innocent person who's just trying to stay alive."

Cho smiled. "Not me, white man. I've never condemned her."

Patrick started at Cho, stunned. "Not you? You mean you don't think it was her?" The expression on Patrick's face displayed his incredulity.

Cho shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. There's not enough evidence to make a decision. Almost everything we know about her could be taken two ways."

Patrick nodded. The tea had cooled enough that he could take a deep, satisfying sip. "Ah, love this stuff." He continued, "You're right, I guess. It could, but," he paused. "I was actually beginning to like her, Cho. Then there's this Red John mess. AGAIN! Every time I have feelings for someone, is Red John going to take them from me? Is that bastard going to follow me my entire life and screw up everything I live and breathe for, kill everything I love?"

Cho reached over and grabbed Jane's wrist. "Easy, Jane. You're going to break the cup."

Patrick jerked and realized how hard he was gripping the heavy cup his tea was in. Opening his hand. his smile was shaky. "Guess I'm lucky I'm not stronger. That would have hurt," he observed. Then, looking at Cho, "Now what, he asked. "What do I do now?"

Cho, gripped Jane's wrist tighter and pulled Jane towards him. Leaning forward, in a low intense voice he said, "You get through one day at a time. One day at a time you get closer to Red Jane, and then, one day, you kill him." He quickly released Jane's arm and leaned back against his chair. Patrick almost fell backwards from the tension release.

They were both breathing hard. Patrick's reason for his tension, obvious, Cho's not as obvious, but apparently, just as intense.

Patrick leaned forward staring a Cho. "Kimball, sometimes you scare me."

Cho grunted. "If you knew me better, you'd be scared all of the time."

Patrick gave a sharp short laugh. "You're probably right, Kimball. While I can trust you with my life, you can still scare me, and I'm not sure where that comes from." He continues. "Not that it matters, right now, I have other things to be scared of, don't I?"

Cho nodded. "We all do. Red Jane's an unpredictable bastard and we do have to stop him."

Patrick stood, leaving a five dollar bill on the table for his tea. "Yes, we do have to stop him and the CBI team is probably as good as any could be to do that." He pushed his chair under the table. "Thanks for the chat, Cho. I think I can face the day now."

Patrick turned and left the cafe. Cho sat, contemplating the interior of his coffee cup.

~oOOOo~

OK, if you got this far, you may have read it. Now, do me the favor of letting me know what you think. Should this be the end or should it continue? Your thoughts?

.


	2. Night Terrors

**Author's Note:  
This story occurs right after Red Sky In The Morning Season 2, Episode 23. This chapter is after "A Chat with Cho", the same night.**

**When your world falls apart, some soul searching may be in order.  
Just be careful of what you find.**

**PS: for Anna, because she asked for it.**

**Red John Reverie  
**(Night Terrors)

The room, perhaps nine by twelve feet, was a bleak as always. The mattress on the floor, covers rumpled, presided over by the blood red smiley face over, were exactly the same. There was no blood on the floor, now, and Patrick wondered if there was really any blood in his veins. Maybe all that was left was ice water. Ice water kept cold my the memories of happy time and happy people, and the death of those happy times and happy people. Memories of how they had died, perhaps screaming in fear and the ultimate agony of being slowly cut apart. He wondered if their screams included his name and entreaties for him to help them, for him to make the pain stop.

He snorted. If they had, that been utterly useless. His arrogance, his ultimate pride at being able to figure out everything and control everyone had stripped him of his life, his love, his joy, leaving him only a reason of pure hatred to continue. Patrick sat on the mattress and put the bag he'd been carrying next to his right foot, the gun that no one knew he had went by his left foot.

"I wonder if Cho has any idea," he mused. "While that guy can scare me, at times. The secrets I hold should terrify him. " He reached down and took a bottle of cognac out of the plain brown paper bag. He held it up and momentarily enjoyed the color of the evening light through the glass of the bottle. "Courvoisier Cognac Napoleon 750ML," he mumbled. "Hello, Darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again!"

He grimaced and ripped the top off of the bottle with an almost violent motion, held it up, toasted to no one and nothing, turned the bottle up and took several long swallows. His eyes watered, but he did not choke or gasp for breath. "Now that is smooth and gentle," he observed. "I could get used to this stuff." A full moon had risen and was three quarters up in the window, it's eerie light filling the room, almost creating a spotlight effect on the wall's grinning red face.

He turned and saw the face. Reaching down, by his left foot, he grabbed the .380 auto, there, and pulling the hammer back, spun to aim between the eyes the mocking entity. "Red John," he hissed, "when that day comes – and it will – I will not shoot you between the eyes. I will not end it quickly!" He released the hammer on the small hand gun, lowering it to half cock. He aimed lower down the wall. "I'll gut shoot you, you sun of a bitch. I'll gut shoot you and watch you writhe in pain. Then I'll take your knees and elbows. That may cause you a bit of discomfort, but it's all for the greater cause, isn't it? I'll laugh as you truly realize what you are facing. Yes, I will laugh as you try to keep from screaming. I'll lean over and tenderly stroke your cheek and tell you that I'll end it for you if you only beg me."

Patrick turned his back to the wall, placed the gun back on the floor and sat, again. He took another sip of the Courvoisier, unsteadily replacing the cap and sitting it back on the floor. "This stuff seems to be a bit stronger than the taste would suggest," he thought. "I'd better go easy on it. I do want to look all professional for work tomorrow, now don't I?"

"Hey! Janie boy, will you beg for me," he growled, half turning to face the image on the wall, again. "Will you grovel and whine? No, you say? Well, I don't care what you say. We'll have plenty of time to get to where we want to go, now won't we. I know some interesting things to do to a body to cause pain, too. Unlike you, I was civilized and wouldn't even consider such things. Did you notice that I said that I WAS civilized, Janie? You changed all that, Red Jane. You changed all of that. When we meet, you will not be with the Patrick Jane of old: soft, weak, arrogant and sure. No, you'll be facing a totally different man. I hope you like the man you'll be with. You are going to spend the rest of you life with him. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?"

He grabbed the bottle on the floor and screamed, "Answer me you son of a bitch!" He threw the bottle at the grinning face. "Answer me," he whispered slumping onto the bed. The heavy Courvoisier bottle did not break. It did put a dent in the wall, but it didn't break. The dent in the wall, on closer examination, would simply be one of many. This scene had been played out before, the beginning, middle and end, exactly that same, no variation, except the dialogue my differ slightly. The despair, the pain, the desperation, they were the same. They were the same each time.

Patrick unsteadily fumbled around, finding the cognac bottle. "Hi, buddy. Hope I didn't hurt you." He carefully set it next to the mattress and the gun on the floor, and lie down, slightly groaning as he stretched. "It's been a damn long day," he said lowly, exhaling. He glanced over at the gun. "I'm not sure how many more of these, I can take." He sighed. "Gotta take more. Red John is still out there. I can't rest till I get him. As long as he's alive, he'll have me to worry about."

Patrick's eyes slowly closed. "Someday. Someday, I'll be able to rest," was his last conscious thought of the day...

Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again,  
Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping,  
And the vision that was planted in my brain,  
Still remains, within the sound of silence.

**Reviews? Comments?**


	3. Dark Morning of the Soul

**Author's Note:  
When your world falls apart, some soul searching may be in order.  
Just be careful of what you find.**

**Red John Reverie  
**(Dark Morning of the Soul)

The darkness was cloying and oppressive, fitting for the terror he was feeling. He might lose him. "Not again," he moaned to himself. "I can't fail, again! I can't lose him again and let him hurt someone else." He knew that he was close to Red John, very close, so he tried to run faster. But, wait! Was that foot steps he heard behind him? Was Red John gaining on him? He tried to run faster still, but it was as in fatigue had turned his legs to lead.

"When did we start running in circles," he wondered. "Who is chasing whom?" But wait, it's not a circle. No, a circle endlessly, well, circles. They were running in a spiral, and the closer he got to Red Jane, the closer Red John go to him. Closer and closer. "Did I just say, 'Red Jane?' It's not Jane. I'm Jane. It's Red John." His breath was coming in short gasping pants as he tried to run faster to catch him.

"Maybe I am Red Jane, and Red John is only my attempt to deny it's my fault my family, my wife, my little girl are dead. I killed them. It is all my fault." He gasped and fell forward, his body slamming into a soft yielding substance the clung to him and made his panting attempts to catch is breath difficult. That's when he realized that he was not alone. There was someone behind him and he was helpless. He drew his right leg up, and grasped the yielding surface, waiting for the fatal blow from behind. Wait, he did have his gun. He'd must have dropped it when he fell, because it wasn't in his hand. It had to be close, but he couldn't see in the darkness and he was having trouble breathing. He fumbled around with his right hand and found. it. THERE! He had it in his hand. He grabbed it and rolled, trying to see his target.

He felt himself lifted and the gun removed from his hand, like a child being deprived of a dangerous toy. "You look like crap, Jane. Pull yourself together," he heard someone to say.

He squinted and tried to focus his eyes. "Cho? Is that you Cho?"

Cho stared at him. "We need to be at the office soon. You might want to shower and change clothes. Sleeping in your suit isn't a good idea, Jane."

"Uh, how did you get in," Patrick voiced aloud.

"You left the door open. Jane. Yes, I said open. I didn't even have to turn the knob."

"Oh." Patrick looked like he'd just been spanked. "I guess I messed up."

Cho nodded. "Go shower. You smell bad." He paused. "You look worse." He released his grip on Patrick, Jane slumped back to the rumpled, sweaty mattress.

"Yes, Sir, Boss. To the shower it is," he said, attempting a bit of levity.

When Jane returned Cho nodded approvingly. "Looking much better."

Jane smiled. "So, I can pass for human?"

"As long as you keep smiling, you might." Cho pointed at the wall. "I see there's another dent in the wall. That Courvoisier comes in a quality bottle, doesn't it?"

Jane looked at the wall, the rumpled bed, and the bottle of Courvoisier. He stopped smiling. "Cho, why are you here?"

Cho stared at him. "Sometimes we chase our demons. Sometimes they chase us. I just wanted to make sure that you finish this race."

Patrick blanked his face, masking all emotion. "Is my tie straight? I never can seem to get it right the first time."

"To the left," Cho grunted.

"I can't seem to find my gun, Cho. Do you have it?"

"Yea, I have it. I object to getting shot." He pulled the gun from his waistband. "Here, and it's back on half-cock. You really should not leave cocked guns kicking around the floor."

With a chagrined look, Patrick accepted the .380. "Or shoot your wake up call, right?"

"Right!" Cho agreed, his face bland.

Patrick busied himself preparing for work. Mostly just killing time and fussing with items that needed no fussing with. Finally he paused and looked at Cho. "Don't you have any ancient oriental wisdom for me?"

Cho shrugged. "No."

"So, you just stopped by to make sure I wasn't late for work?"

"I stopped by because you need a wake up call," Cho replied.

"Ah ha! Oriental double entendre! I knew it was coming! And just what am I supposed to wake up from."

Cho glared at Jane. "You need to awaken from the illusion that you are the cause of Red John's actions."

Patrick spun and faced Cho. "You're trying to tell me that it wasn't my fault Is that what you're saying? You're saying if I hadn't shot my mouth off, they'd still be dead?"

"I'm saying that Red John is responsible for what Red John does. Let me ask you a question, Jane. "

Patrick grunted.

"If a pretty girl wears a short skirt, in the park, and gets raped, is that her fault?" Cho waited for the answer.

"Don't be an ass, Cho. Of course it wouldn't be her fault. She has the right to wear what she wants to wear, as long as it's legal." Cho stared at Jane. "What," Jane asked, sarcastically. Cho continued to stare at him. Jane looked down and shifted from foot to foot. "OK, OK, I get your point."

"Easy to say, Jane, but do you? Do you really?" Patrick hesitated. "Do I need to smack you along side of your head?"

Patrick smiled. "I do have a gun, you know."

For the first time, today, Cho smiled in return. "I know you do, and if you pull it, you know where it'll be, don't you?"

Patrick grimaced. "Ouch!" Then he nodded. "Yes, I guess I do see your point."

"And," Cho interrupted, "you need to start thinking that way. I mean you need to think those thoughts. Not the 'it's my fault' mantra that normally makes up your internal chatter. I mean NEW chatter, that puts the blame where it belongs. Can you do that?"

Patrick nodded. "I hear you Dr. Cho and I'll admit that you're right."

"Will you admit that you'll do it?" Cho waited. "We are not leaving here, till you do," he added

"OK, I promise that I'll work on it." He smiled his Jane-smile. "Honest, I really will."

Cho looked satisfied. He put his arm around Jane's shoulders and pulled him towards the door. "Lock it this time," he said.

~oOOOo~

**Thanks to all who reviewed and encouraged me to continue. It's been and interesting exploration into what could be...**


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